


Little Miracles

by Solemini (SoleminiSanction)



Series: Father of Heroes [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Demigods, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Bat Family, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Tim is an adorable baby, and also apparently godbait
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-17 22:31:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15471555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoleminiSanction/pseuds/Solemini
Summary: When Bruce Wayne startles awake to find Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, at the foot of his bed, he is not as surprised as he probably should be.Or, in which Bruce is Mount Olympus's #1 DILF.A Percy Jackson/Halfblood/Demigod AU.





	Little Miracles

 

When Bruce Wayne startles awake to find Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, at the foot of his bed, he is not as surprised as he probably should be.

It’s newly dawn and he has only been asleep for, at most, two hours. A crack in his curtains permits only a single thin beam of gray light; yet, the goddess shines all the same. She appears not unlike she had the previous month, when they met by chance at the Wayne Foundation “Future of Education” Conference: straight black hair in a long, loose braid; fair skin bronzed by a loving sun; and the most beautiful, intelligent and _dangerous_ gray eyes Bruce has ever seen.

And yet, she seems _more_ here, in this moment, than she had at the conference, or at the lunch they shared after, or the dinner after that, or the hours in-between. She, here, is more present. More powerful, more _divine_. And she carries a bundle of shimmering silver swaddling clothes.

 _Again?_ thinks Bruce in the echo of his exhaustion. Then he shakes off the sleep and sits up, letting the bedclothes slip away from his bare chest.

Athena smiles at him, warming the cold gray of her eyes. “Hello Bruce,” she says. “I wanted to tell how much I truly enjoyed our weekend together.”

“Did you?” Bruce returns her smile and has no trouble making it genuine. “I’m glad. Thought it might be too much to hope that you got as much out of it as I did.”

“Oh, as much and more,” says Athena with a wistful sigh.

Bruce usually associates that tone – and, for that matter, her bundle – with the reminiscence of passion and sex. Yet, to his recollection, he and the _virgin_ goddess did no such thing: their weekend together consisted entirely of conversation; long, impassioned debates on every topic under the sun, from history and science to justice and modern art.  

Yet, Athena beams at him with the healthy glow of a pregnant mother. “You’ve truly inspired me. And for that, I bring you this gift.”

She sits beside him, their sides brushing from shoulder to knee, and angles the bundle to show him its contents. Inside, wrapped up safe and tight, sleeps a black-haired baby boy. He is not newborn, but only just; no older than a month at the outside. And he seems small, or at least smaller than the other infants Bruce has known. Yet, he’s healthy at a glance and sleeps without any trouble, as fine a child as any goddess could have dreamed.

“He has a beautiful mind,” coos Athena, her voice rich with affection. “Not unlike yours, dear one. He’ll be a great man, our Timothy.”

Bruce repeats the name softly, so he’ll remember, unable to look away even as Athena kisses the infant’s brow and passes him over. The cloth is held with a beautiful silver pin in the shape of an owl. It’s cold and heavy against Bruce’s arm as he shifts to support the boy’s head.

Timothy squirms as he’s passed off, tiny face scrunching in displeasure. For a split second, his eyes open: blue-gray, like a Gotham morning sky.

And for the fourth time in his life, Bruce Wayne falls instantly in love.

He cradles the precious gift close, ready to shield him from the entire world if that’s what it takes to keep him safe. Tim sleeps again the instant he’s settled, eyes closed and face turned into his father’s warmth.

Athena begins petting Bruce’s hair, her arms draped across his broad shoulders with all the warmth and security of the cape he wears at night. “You’ll love him?” she whispers, as though her gifts have been refused, ignored, abandoned in the past.

He holds tighter. “With all my heart.”

“And you’ll protect him?”

Bruce turns his head, matching the unwavering gaze of those stormy gray eyes. “If needed,” he vows, “with my life.”

He means every word.

Athena smiles. She leans in, kisses his temple. Bruce closes his eyes to savor the moment of contact.

When he opens them again, she is gone.

He sighs, knowing that he will get no more sleep tonight. He tucks Tim close, stands, and steps out into the hall without bothering with his slippers or robe. In the early morning, Wayne Manor lies still, the rest of his children fast asleep even as a silvery Gotham dawn illuminates the open halls.

Alfred, bless him, is already up and in the kitchen, no doubt getting some cleaning done before breakfast. He’s humming to himself as Bruce pads silently in, and it warms the master’s heart to know his adopted father is in a good mood.

He clears his throat. “Alfred?”

The humming stops, but the smile lingers on Alfred’s face as he turns. “Good morning, Master Bruce. You’re certainly up early to—”

He stops dead, staring at the babe in his employer’s arms. Bruce grins sheepishly. As this is the fourth time, he truly has no excuse.

“It appears I’ve gained Athena’s favor.”

“…Quite,” says Alfred, and goes to retrieve the footstool, so he reach the high cabinets where they’ve stored the infant supplies since last time.

 

* * *

 

 

Tim doesn’t start fussing until a few hours later, when Alfred’s gone to fetch the rest of Bruce’s children from their beds. He left a bottle waiting, perfectly warm, so Bruce settles on the settee in the dining room and coaxes Tim into taking his first sips of mortal formula.

Dick notices first. He shuffles in with his brother and sister, the tallest in a sleepy herd of tussle-haired, pajama-clad children. While the younger two shamble straight for their seats, Dick rubs sleepily at one eye and scans the room for Bruce.

It takes a moment for him to register the bundle, the bottle, and his father’s position, and a moment more for his slowly-waking mind to fit the pieces together. But the second it all clicks, he lights up.

“A _baby!_ ”

He dashes over, leaping onto the settee’s armrest and perching there on his toes with impressive grace for a seven-year-old. His face shines with excitement and the stirrings of new love.

“Where’d you get a _baby_ , Dad? Is it ours? Is it a new brother? Are you gonna keep him??”

“Not so loud,” Bruce scolds gently, even as Tim starts to squirm in protest of the noise. He sets the bottle aside, wipes the baby’s lip with a cloth, and then lays it across one shoulder for a combination burp and comfort bounce. “Yes, he’s a new brother. His name is Tim. Of course we’re keeping him. And don’t yell, he’s still new.”

Dick claps his hands over his mouth and stares up at Bruce with watery, apologetic eyes. Those eyes that are shifting through shades of blue, unconsciously searching for the perfect shade to tug at the heartstrings and wind them around Dick’s finger.

He doesn’t do it on purpose, not like his mother. Bruce remembers all too well what _that_ was like, being the sole focus of Aphrodite’s shimmering, primal, dangerous beauty. He’d come so close to damnation the day they met, when, in his youthful naivete, he’d turned down her attempts at seduction. It was sheer luck or perhaps fate that led her to take it as a challenge instead of an insult. To take _him_ as a challenge.

And she wasn’t the only one.

Thankfully, Dick’s instinctive charisma calms the moment he leans over his new brother and presses a gentle kiss to that soft newborn head. “Sorry Timmy,” he whispers. 

The baby stops squirming, opens his eyes, and stares up at Dick with something like curiosity.

By then, Jason and Cass have hurried over, fully woken by Dick’s excitement. Jason takes a stand in front of Bruce, stretching on tip-toes to the limits of his five-year-old height. He takes in Bruce’s state – still in only his pajama bottoms, chest and feet bare, hair mussed from sleep – along with the silvery cloth now laid across his lap and the owl pin on the side table. He screws up his face.

“Jeez dad, how many gods are you gonna fuck?”

“Master Jason,” snaps Alfred. Jason ducks back and has the decency to look scolded.

Bruce shakes his head, wondering again if Ares has been sneaking in to see their kid when he’s not looking. It’d certainly explain more than just the swearing. “I appear to be working my way through the pantheon.”

“ _Master Bruce!”_

Jason giggles, as does Dick. They compliment each other, making a nice harmony despite the stark differences between the two boys. Jason is stocky where Dick is lithe, solid where Dick is flexible, and sturdy as rock while Dick bounces from one passion to the next. Yet, they share the same dark hair – which seems to be Bruce’s most dominant gene – and pale eyes, so even strangers know them to be brothers at a glance.

But no one would guess that they were conceived in the same night, not in the least because they were born two years apart. That night, with Aphrodite and Ares in all their impossible reality, had been Bruce’s first true taste of the divine. He’d been young, and dumbstruck by the attention, and hadn’t quite realized that they were turning it into a competition until Ares appeared on his doorstep with Jason, over two years after Iris delivered Dick to his backyard.

And while Bruce had never hesitated to love his kids with every fiber of his being, he had – quite reasonably – sworn off any similar interactions with more of their kind.

But then came Cassandra.

The little girl – just turned two by Bruce’s reckoning – sits to his left, having tucked herself alongside him on the cushioned seat, quiet as can be. She peers at the baby, looking like she wants nothing more than to ask a hundred questions and a million favors. But she says nothing. Not a sound, not even a breath.

Bruce turns to face her more fully with a gentle smile.  “Here, Cassandra. You want to hold him?”

Cass nods. Dick gives a squeak of protest at not getting the first turn, only for Jason to shush him with a finger to his lips. Bruce spreads the silver blanket until part of it covers Cass’s lap, then lies Tim down to lie on his back, head and shoulders lightly propped by Cassandra’s legs.

“There you go. Support his head.”

Tim peers up at her with eyes that are too well-focused, too perspicacious for his age. Bruce wonders lightly if that’s Athena’s gift, like Dick’s charm or Jason’s raw strength, or if it’s the result of being, however briefly, raised and suckled by his godly parent.

That’s what happened with Cass, after all. Or at least, he thinks it is. Bruce doesn’t actually remember meeting the deity who birthed her. He knows from research only that Harpocrates was – or is – a minor god of secrets, silence, and confidentiality, but he doesn’t know who they were, what they looked like, what the nature of their meeting exactly was, or even when and where it happened.

All he knows for sure is that Cassandra turned up on his door three months ago, walking and alert, with that ancient name on her lips and a gaze of silent affection. It is not unlike the look she now gives Tim as she gently traces her fingers over his hair and down his face, like she’s afraid he’ll break if she pushes too hard.

Tim blinks at her, then reaches out and grasps a single searching finger with his tiny hand.

Cassandra looks up at her father, those big, black eyes watering with tears.

“I love him,” she whispers in reverent awe. Her words carry supernatural weight: Cassandra only speaks in secrets and deep truths. It warms Bruce’s heart to hear, makes him feel alive.

Soon enough, Dick and Jason crowd in to demand their own turns, and Alfred is clearing his throat to summon them all back to the table for a proper breakfast. For a moment, Bruce leaves that fussing to the father who has guided him through all this – through the loss of his parents and the chaos of becoming one time and again – and closes his eyes to savor the sound.

These are his children and his father and his home. This beautiful chaos is his family. And he wouldn’t change them for the world.

 

* * *

 

 

That night – not late, but later than he should probably be awake, considering – Bruce sits in the Batcave and ponders his vow to Athena.

When Dick had been five and Jason only three, a harpy appeared in Gotham Park Square. She’d looked like a normal woman, right up until she seized Dick and tried to fly off with him. Five months later, an amphisbaena had gotten into Jason’s bed, which Bruce only knew because he’d heard the fighting and burst in to find a half-awake Jason strangling the thing with his sheets. Even Cass had been lured to the edge of the estate by a man with no head, just last month.

By design, mortals don’t – can’t – know much about half-bloods or their world, but Bruce knows a pattern when he sees one. There are monsters in this world that hunt the divine in his children. Even with all his vigilance, all his training, he can’t guarantee that their home will be safe as it is.

He looks to the monitors, showing security footage of his family getting ready for bed: Dick doing homework in the nursery while Tim sleeps, Alfred wrangling Jason for a bath, and Cassandra selecting her bedtime story from the library.

He can’t protect them like this, can’t even see some of the enemies waiting to attack. To keep his promise, he’s going to need help.

With a sigh, Bruce picks a communicator from the dashboard and hits a button.

“Zatanna. Wonder Woman. This is Batman. I need to call in a favor.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on an AU/headcanon I posted on my Tumblr a while back. You can find it here if you're curious, it's got a bit more info about how the various pairings went down, as well as what Damian's deal will eventually be.
> 
> http://soleminisanction.tumblr.com/post/174440409612/imagine-a-batfam-half-bloodpjto-au-where-the


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